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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185740">tightrope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maangoes/pseuds/maangoes'>maangoes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>romance on a budget in the time of hook-up culture [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, kise and aomine live 2gether during college and play on the same team uwu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:49:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maangoes/pseuds/maangoes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s seven in the fucking morning and of course Kise is already here -- hair coiffed, clothes pressed, duffle slung neatly over one shoulder.</p><p>Aomine suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, is immediately alarmed by the fact he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and rolls them twice for good measure. He comes up behind him on the steps, gently nudging Kise’s calf with the toe of his sneaker.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aomine Daiki/Kise Ryouta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>romance on a budget in the time of hook-up culture [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tightrope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i do not know if anyone is still here... but if u r... pls enjoy SDLFJSFJ</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s seven in the fucking morning and of course Kise is already here -- hair coiffed, clothes pressed, duffle slung neatly over one shoulder.</p><p>Aomine suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, is immediately alarmed by the fact he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and rolls them twice for good measure. He comes up behind him on the steps, gently nudging Kise’s calf with the toe of his sneaker.</p><p>Without looking, Kise wordlessly lifts his iced coffee so the straw is inches from Aomine’s mouth. Aomine takes a loud sip. Kise spends an absurd amount of money on iced coffee every semester, enough that Aomine has developed a taste for a truly ridiculous number of humiliatingly-named flavor combinations.</p><p>“Christ,” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What is that?”</p><p>Eyes still trained on his phone, Kise rattles off -- “A non-fat frappuccino with one pump of caramel, one pump of hazelnut, one pump of toffee, and java chips.”</p><p>Aomine yawns. “Just get a fat one, at that point.” </p><p>Kise stops scrolling through Instagram to kick him.</p><p>Practice is fun, as always. Aomine is still getting used to being on a team of people he knows, learning how to play to other’s strengths. Though there’s an underlying knowledge that he and Kise won’t be at this school for more than a year — they’ll be scouted by professionals before the season is over — Aomine has developed a certain begrudging attachment to the rest of the players.</p><p>And playing with Kise again is... well. Aomine hasn’t forgotten what it was like, hours and hours of one on one until they both collapsed onto the concrete, exhausted, laughing like they were drunk on each other.</p><p>Kise is even crazier now than he was back then, and as many times as they’ve stood on opposite ends of the court, Aomine has never known that nearly-feral glint in his eye to dim.</p><p>The air is muggy and warm by the time they wrap, late morning sun streaming in through the high-up windows. </p><p>Aomine wipes sweat from his upper lip with the hem of his t-shirt, then goes to bother Kise, who always wilts in the heat like a hothouse flower.</p><p>“How do you always smell so good,” Aomine complains, slinging arms around his shoulders and resting his chin in the crook of Kise’s neck. Kise has reacted to this differently at various stages of their lives — in middle school, he would flush and tilt his head against Aomine’s. In high school, he would tense up and shove him off with an only slightly strained laugh.</p><p>Now, he just brings up long fingers to rumple Aomine’s sweaty hair. “How do you always smell so disgusting?” he asks sweetly. Aomine tries to shove his armpit in Kise’s face.</p><p>“It’s too hot,” he complains, wrestling Aomine’s arm away from him. “Get me a popsicle.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Why not?” </p><p>When Aomine flicks his forehead instead of answering, Kise sticks his tongue out and promptly sets his sights on his next target. Aomine rolls his eyes. Americans -- fucking pushovers.</p><p>Kise eats his popsicle with far too much satisfaction on the walk back to their place, somehow managing to hold it so the juice doesn’t run down onto his hands. Because Kise does everything perfectly. Even when he messes up -- his bed-head is adorably rumpled, his missed shots have a gorgeous arc,  his cooking is <em> just </em>burnt enough to still be edible. </p><p>It would be more annoying if it wasn't Kise, who smiles like the sun shines out of his eyes.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Kise tilts his head, with a curious sidelong glance.</p><p>Aomine is quiet for a moment. “Your threes were shit today.”</p><p>He pays for that one the rest of the way home.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The first time Aomine watches Kise play, he takes fifteen seconds to bypass their best second-string defender, executes a perfect layup, and proceeds to trip over his own shoelaces as he walks back to the bleachers. </p><p>It becomes clear that he needs... a little help.</p><p>It’s not like it’s that hard to look out for him, not when he’s static clinging to Aomine’s side all the time, and, frankly, Kise is too self-absorbed to notice just how much Aomine is doing anyway. So when he rolls his ankle while they’re playing on the outdoor court, Aomine gives him a piggyback ride back to his house. And when he forgets his lunch during Saturday practice, Aomine begrudgingly gives him half his sandwich, though he does saddle him with a pretty bad wedgie in exchange. He ribs Kise for forgetting to tie his laces, he wakes him up with a little wrestling before early morning practice, he presses their shoulders together when Kise bites off more than he can chew.</p><p>It’s not a big deal -- hardly different from looking after Satsuki when they were kids. Kise reminds him of a girl sometimes, with the way he whines and tugs at Aomine’s clothes, does silly things to catch his attention.</p><p>Aomine doesn’t mind as much as he’d like to. Kise makes the winning basket in a game, but he shirks the roar of applause, instead throwing a look over his shoulder to check if Aomine was watching. And at the realization he was, Kise breaks into a beaming smile, too toothy to end up on the cover of a magazine.</p><p>Afterwards, Kise’s head is heavy on his shoulder on the bus ride back to Teiko. He runs idle fingers along the veins in Aomine’s forearm, then exhales a long yawn and huddles close enough to thieve away Aomine’s warmth.</p><p>It’s whatever. At least he doesn’t snore.</p><p>Murasakibara turns to look at them with his usual dead-eyed gaze, then bites a lollipop in half like some sort of psychopath. Aomine’s eyes flick down to Kise, wondering if the crunch was loud enough to wake him. It wasn’t.</p><p>“How cute,” Murasakibara says flatly.</p><p>“It’s Kise,” Aomine scoffs. “He’s always cute.”</p><p>Murasakibara looks at him curiously for a moment before turning around, evidently finished with the conversation.</p><p>Kise sleeps the whole way home. Aomine shakes him awake when they pull into the Teiko parking lot, the rest of the team starting to head their separate ways. </p><p>“You’re so warm,” Kise hums, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as they disembark. Aomine watches him carefully, concerned he’s going to trip on the stairs. “I wish I could take you home with me.”</p><p>Aomine laughs and scrubs a hand through Kise’s hair, once they’re back on steady ground. “Oi, Kise. Don’t say such embarrassing things.”</p><p>Kise’s smile touches the edge of his flush, and he looks away, tugging his sweater tighter around his shoulders.</p><p>Of course, everything changes -- scoring becomes too easy, they start winning every single game, their opponents seem to give up halfway through the second quarter. </p><p>Aomine pulls away from Kise the same way he does everyone else, because he knows it’s better that way, because it’s hard to have Kise look at him like he’s something special, when most days he can only resent his own talent. </p><p>And he stops doing things that he knows will feed Kise’s hero worship. Or at least he stops doing them where Kise can see.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Their apartment is a total mess. Not a surface remains uncovered. If it isn’t Aomine’s empty chip bags and gravure magazines, it’s detritus from Kise’s pathological online shopping habit or the contents of various makeup bags. Aomine has gotten used to catching glimpses of Mai-chan’s face through something Kise swears is an ‘eyelash curler’, but Aomine maintains is some sort of unique torture device.</p><p>Though it took a while to get used to waking up in the morning and finding the sink covered in heart-shaped sparkles, there’s nowhere else Aomine would rather live. Besides, Tetsu visits at least once a month, and that’s motivation enough for the both of them to tighten up a little.</p><p>Aomine thinks it’s well-suited to this time in their lives -- like a waystation between high school and the rest of the world, a year long breather before they go back to wearing different uniforms.</p><p>He gets home from strength training that evening earlier than usual. Kise stands at the kitchen counter in Calvin Klein boxers, one of Aomine’s t-shirts, and thigh-high red leather platform boots. He’s scrolling through his phone with one hand, and with the other, he lifts a juice box for an obnoxiously noisy sip. As he sets it back down, the top of the straw shimmers with whatever lip gloss he’s wearing.</p><p>“What the hell?” Aomine asks idly.</p><p>Kise’s eyes dart up and he makes a relieved sound in the back of his throat, abandoning his phone and beverage with haste. “Thank god you’re home,” he whines. He lifts a leg to shake demonstratively. “I had the shoot for American Vogue today, and I can’t get them off!”</p><p>Aomine, as it turns out, doesn’t have much luck with that either. He kneels at the base of the couch and struggles with the slippery leather, Kise’s leg tucked under his arm. </p><p>“I knew my feet were too big, but the creative director insisted.” Kise rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner, though the expression soon melts into a preen. “But I liked it, a little. I must be at least as tall Murasakibaricci.”</p><p>“Must be,” Aomine grunts, tugging hard at the boot. It doesn’t move at all. </p><p>“Try grabbing the heel,” Kise suggests. </p><p>Aomine wraps his fingers around the heel, bracing his other hand at Kise’s leather-clad calf. He pulls with the full force of his strength. Kise yelps, sliding down a little on the couch, but it knocks the boot loose, so it’s worth the pout. He pulls the same maneuver on the other one, then tosses them both under the coffee table.</p><p>With a long-suffering sigh, Aomine flops onto the couch next to Kise, where there is barely enough space to fit the both of them. </p><p>“That was like the reverse of that scene in Cinderella,” he yawns, stretching so his spine pops pleasantly. “Where they’re trying to jam the glass slipper onto the Ugly Step-sisters gigantic foot.” He easily dodges Kise’s elbow to the ribs.</p><p>“I hate you,” Kise sighs. He shifts around a bit, turning onto his side to throw a heavy leg over Aomine’s, pressing his cheek into Aomine’s shoulder. </p><p>Kise likes to act like he isn’t just as massive and lumbering as Aomine is. That he managed to squeeze his thighs into those boots at all is downright laughable. Aomine lifts a hand to trace the resulting faint red indentations in his skin.</p><p>“My hair is getting too long.” Kise blows it out of his eyes. “I should cut it.”</p><p>“I like it long,” Aomine says absently.</p><p>“Even more reason to chop it off,” Kise sniffs. Aomine ducks down to bite his nose. Kise’s face scrunches up in a laugh.</p><p>Without really thinking about it, Aomine tilts Kise’s chin up with his index finger, studies the slight widening of his eyes, and draws him forward into a kiss. It takes a moment for Kise to start kissing him back, but when he does, it’s with the single-minded focus he dedicates to everything. He tangles fingers into the front of Aomine’s t-shirt and makes a soft noise against Aomine’s mouth that sends heat shivering down the length of his spine.</p><p>They break apart for lack of air and nothing else. Aomine already wants to go again - kissing Kise feels like playing a match he isn’t sure he’ll win. </p><p>“Why did you do that?” Kise asks, blinking at him.</p><p>Aomine shrugs. “Wanted to.” He drags his tongue along the sticky gloss now smeared across his own lower lip. “Strawberry?” he asks.</p><p>In lieu of an answer, Kise swings a leg over his lap, winds arms around his neck, and leans down to kiss him again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kise should probably be more embarrassed, that he can recognize the hooded figure sitting on the bench at his train stop from just the stretch of long calves and familiar beat up sneakers. He slows on approach, fiddling nervously with the silver ring in his ear. He stops texting Kasamatsu pictures of fat cats. Thirteen is probably sufficient anyway.</p><p>It’s been a while. There’s a sort of tacit agreement between members of the team that have the misfortune of living in the same prefecture - they stay out of each other’s parts of the city. </p><p>But Kise has had a couple shoots in the area over the past few months, and he needs the extra cash for new basketball sneakers. This is the first time he’s run into Aomine.</p><p>“Hi,” he greets with a small, tired smile. He stands a carefully calculated distance away, regarding Aomine out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>Aomine seems to have been sleeping. Or pretending to sleep. He shifts at the sound of Kise’s voice, flicking his hood back to squint at him in the dim afternoon sun.</p><p>“Hi,” he says back, after a long moment of appraisal. </p><p>“Heard you have a game on Friday.”</p><p>Aomine starts to stand, dusting off his basketball shorts. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Good luck.”</p><p>A quiet, derisive sound. “You think I need it?”</p><p>Kise tilts his chin up, staring hard at the shabby konbini across the street. “You will. Eventually.” Kise says it like challenge, but both of them know that, for Aomine, it’s a comfort. He can feel Aomine’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t say anything. </p><p>It starts to rain. Kise looks at Aomine and feels quietly vindicated at the dim interest that seems to dart behind his eyes. Whatever strange wall exists between them these days, Kise still knows him better than anyone else.</p><p>Aomine slowly steps forward until he’s standing under the drizzling sky, shirt darkening with water. He turns his face up and squints at the storm clouds. It still doesn’t disrupt the lazy arrogance that seems to have permanently settled on his features.</p><p>Kise watches him with soft eyes. “I didn’t bring a rain coat,” he sighs.</p><p>Aomine looks back at him and snorts. “So?”</p><p>"Aominecchi,” Kise says skeptically. “I’m wearing fifty-dollar foundation.”</p><p>There is a moment’s pause, then Aomine reaches for Kise and yanks him out from under the awning with a sudden grin that suggests he knows he’s handsome enough to get away with it. These days, Aomine’s smiles are varying shades of rapacious. This one makes Kise’s breath catch in his throat.</p><p>What Kise really wants to do is throw arms around Aomine’s shoulders, pepper his face with kisses, and tell him just how much he missed him. But, even aside from the fact that he’s not sure the person standing before him is the Aomine he’s been aching for, there’s a part of him that thinks — this is how it’s meant to be right now. Separate teams, separate lives, empty hands as they each find their own way.</p><p>“Your train,” Aomine interrupts the thought, squinting at the rapidly arriving subway. He still remembers what line Kise takes home. That feels important, somehow.</p><p>Kise glances down at his expensive shoes, now soaked through with rainwater. “I’ll see you around?”</p><p>Aomine nods, but he already has that look in his eye again, like he’s far, far away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As a general rule, Aomine doesn’t get out of bed before 11 AM on days he doesn’t absolutely have to. So by the time he ambles into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, it’s no surprise that Kise is already gone. What is a surprise is that there aren’t twenty-five messages with truly ludicrous amounts of emojis waiting for him when he unlocks his phone.</p><p>He thinks about last night as he eats the last of Kise’s cereal. They didn’t even do anything, just -- made out for a while, then talked for even longer. He kind of gets why people kiss Kise once, or spend just a little bit of time in the warm glow of his company, and then get obsessed with him forever. Even now, Aomine is checking his texts, combing through chat apps to see if he missed a message from him.</p><p>Ew. He’s acting like Satsuki. He puts his phone down and stares silently into his bowl of Cheerios for the next twelve minutes, on fucking principle.</p><p>Anyway, he doesn’t have to wait that long for an update. They have lecture together at noon, and they always sit in the same place near the back. Good for Aomine to sleep, and Kise to update his socials.</p><p>Sure enough, when Aomine arrives, five minutes early for the first time in the entire semester, Kise is already there. He seems to startle, eyes widening incrementally before he fixes Aomine with his cover-shoot smile. Aomine flips him off, their customary greeting.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“Hi, hi.”</p><p>Aomine slides into the seat next to him. For a couple moments, there’s only the ambient sounds of the afternoon lecture hall, paper crumpling, books shifting, people chatting about their evening plans. Aomine watches Kise intentionally busy himself with unloading his class stuff.</p><p>“I’m taking you to dinner tonight.”</p><p>Kise stills, hand poised halfway between his book bag and his notebook. “Like a..?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>His lips thin. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”</p><p>Aomine lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”</p><p>Kise glances down, then up to the front of the lecture hall with hard eyes. Like when he’s losing a one on one and he’s about to start pulling last-ditch moves. “What if my tits aren’t big enough for you?”</p><p>“I’m willing to overlook it,” Aomine says smoothly. He nudges his knee against Kise’s under the table. “Yes or no?”</p><p>“It’s a question now?”</p><p>“Ryota,” Aomine rolls his eyes.</p><p>There is a long pause in which Aomine is disgusted with himself for actually experiencing something akin to nerves.</p><p>Kise stops biting his lip and looks at him. “Yes,” he says quietly.</p><p>Aomine is glad the lecture starts then, drawing Kise’s focus from a smile that gives far too much away. But they do still hold hands under the desk for the rest of the afternoon, so he’s not exactly sure who he’s fooling.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>maangoes on tumblr</p></blockquote></div></div>
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